Mourning Glory
by peregrinepandora
Summary: Snape looks back on one choice, and realizes its ramifications. One-shot.


Mourning Glory

~*~__

_I am Severus Snape._

Surveying shelves upon shelves of potions, all colors, all sizes, I stand mentally identifying the contents of each.  Veritaserum, truth.  Cupidoserum, power.  Adamoserum, love.  Virtues in bottles.  How annoyingly ironic it is that I can create vials of emotions I will never understand.

A face appears on a bottle, a reflection.  The eighth of June, 1979.  The first of thirty-seven.  A young man, wearing a Ministry emblem on his cloak stares at me with eyes frozen in fear.

Twenty-four men, ten women, three children; six of them my former classmates.  Thirty-seven translucent faces peer at me from the jugs containing what I have spent my life creating.  I close my mind quickly, wringing my shaking, sweaty hands together.

_I can bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses._

Power was intoxicating.  The notion of complete supremacy over another human, knowing that you hold their life in your hands, their expression of abject terror as you hissed the Killing Curse, all brought about a tingling sensation, a hair-on-end, goose pimple-raising, mind-shattering convulsion of passion.

"Make gone your emotions," Voldemort murmured silkily. "You will find you have no need of feelings, save loyalty to Lord Voldemort, and only to Lord Voldemort."

"Yes, my Lord."

"You promise your faithfulness and devotion to me?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"_Morsmordre." A searing pain on my left forearm. "You are my servant, Severus Snape."_

"Yes, my Lord."  Marked.

"And you will lose yourself."

_I can bottle fame._

Now, years later, I know the truth: that Voldemort never would have given me power.  I have never fantasized about love.  Now, all I want is freedom, from the choice that stripped me of his will, of my future, of what I might have been.

_I can brew glory._

I had just murdered her husband with a flick of my wand.  She had cowered on the ground, curled tightly, sobs racking her body.

"Rise," I said coldly.  I had no time for her petty theatrics.

She frailly pushed herself off the ground and cast a look at her dead husband.  With one final sniffle, her sobbing ceased and she looked up at me.

"You will be with him soon," I growled.  "_Avada—"___

In a millisecond, I searched her eyes for that satisfying fear, but found only something he thought might be pity.  How _dare she pity me—he who would come to be one of the most powerful wizards in their world upon the victory of Lord Voldemort, while she would lose her life?  _

"_—Kedavra."_

I had taken from her more than could ever be returned.  Yet, when all other eyes reflected hatred and disgust, hers showed only pity, a mild compassion I had not seen in years.  

My heart seized.  She should not have shown me even this small kindness.  It should not have affected me.  Nevertheless, I knew that I had never before hesitated in twenty-four murders, nor would I again until one summer night the next year: the man who would not become number thirty-eight.

_Even put a stopper in death._

Dumbledore is a great man.

I sat in his office for a quarter-hour before he joined me.  Enduring the past headmasters and –mistresses was a test.  Few put effort into disguising their consciousness, and even fewer tried to lower their voices.

"Former student, you know, a Death Eater now.  Dumbledore caught him himself, bloody Death Eater tried to kill him."

"Why's he here?"

"Dumbledore's got a plan.  No great surprise, is it?"

My knuckles were white.  I had always known Albus Dumbledore to be a quiet, thoughtful, patient man, but that was under ideal conditions, with young students who had no notion of the evil that existed out in the world.  To say I was surprised to see him stride serenely into the room without so much as a disdainful glance my way was a gross understatement.

I looked up at him, only to find that vile look of pity in his eyes.

"Severus…"  It was the first time I had heard my name spoken in two years, since I joined the Death Eaters' ranks.  He paused, seeming unable to express what he wanted me to hear.  

"Severus," he said again, so softly the hair on my neck raised.  "You are capable and deserving of so much more." He sounded so mournful, so piteous.  "I want to give you that."

"I would have killed you," I told him quietly, my heart aching from a sudden emotion...fear?  Guilt.  "I stood proudly with the one person you hate most."

He looked at me meaningfully.  "There is always absolution at Hogwarts."

_I can bottle fame._

The Potter boy sits far in the back, stirring his concoction thoughtfully.  He's been particularly careful with his potions this year.  I watch him inconspicuously.

I may deny it if asked, but I know he is a brilliant wizard.  His skill in Defense Against the Dark Arts surpasses even mine, which at his age was near the top of my class.

He's finished now, and just staring off into space.  Save Granger and Weasley, who give him a quick prod but let him be, none of the other students, especially not my Slytherins, seem to give a second glance to the crestfallen expression of the Boy Who Lived.  Even though he is their savior, and will likely save them again.

And I will always be the Death Eater turned Potions Master that most are loath to trust.

For a fleeting instant, he reminds me vaguely of another raven-haired boy from another time.  Neither of us had what one would call a pleasant home life.

Both of us have lost our lives to Voldemort, and we have both been scarred to prove it: his in the form of a lightning bolt, mine of a skull with a snake in its mouth.

In the six years he's been my student, I've wondered if maybe, had I taken a different path, I might be a little like Potter.

But for all our similarities, I know Harry Potter will never have to _brew_ glory.

Author's note: A little different from my other pieces, I'm not sure how or why, but it is.  Hope it makes sense as far as the jumping through time.  As always, anything you have to say about it is so appreciated!  This has been reworked, so if you read it before and have something to say about the changes, let me know I'd love to hear.

Disclaimer: Not mine, JK's.  


End file.
